


A Reason for Change in the Routine

by BlackEyedGirl



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, M/M, Porn Battle, Sleepy Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-11
Updated: 2012-02-11
Packaged: 2017-10-31 07:31:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/341557
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackEyedGirl/pseuds/BlackEyedGirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint convinces Phil to spend the night at the Mansion. [Written for Porn Battle]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Reason for Change in the Routine

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Porn Battle 13 for prompts: _routine, tired_.

Usually, they spend two nights of the week together. They spend one of these nights at Phil’s place (whichever day they get finished at a reasonable hour without a disaster materialising beforehand), and one in Clint’s quarters at SHIELD (when Clint gets in at three a.m. covered in plaster or blood or miscellaneous alien ooze). Lately, though Clint is spending the other five nights in his room at Stark’s mansion, and Phil can’t exactly begrudge him that. Clint hasn’t had a permanent place to live since he was a kid. It took him months to start moving things into the room Stark offered him so carelessly, but now that he’s started, most of his civilian clothes are over there, and an increasing selection of his personal weaponry.

Last night was supposed to be one of the SHIELD nights, but they stopped off at the Mansion to leave Steve over there first. It was gone three-thirty already and Clint had been lying on a snow-covered roof for most of the night, before diving into the fight at the end. Phil had been in a SHIELD van monitoring two-dozen lines of communication. 

Clint hung off the doorframe and blinked slowly at Phil. “Pretty sure I could fall asleep standing up. Can we just stay here tonight?”

“Go on up,” Phil said. “I’ll drive back and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Phil-.”

“What is it?”

“Can we please just stay here?”

It was the ‘please’ that did it, the way Clint was too tired to censor himself, rocking slowly back and forward like the doorframe was the only thing keeping him upright. They’d had too many long days recently. “Okay,” Phil said. He followed Clint up the stairs to the room at the top of the Mansion, ignoring the prying eyes watching the two of them go. Clint tugged off his uniform with a sudden economy of motion, seemingly recognising that just as soon as he got that done he could go to sleep. Phil hung his mostly ruined suit on the back of the chair, and was asleep no more than thirty seconds after climbing into bed. The last thing he remembered was Clint turning towards him in his sleep.

Phil wakes up at eight a.m. without the need for an alarm. He is momentarily disorientated, in neither his own bed nor Clint’s too-narrow bunk at SHIELD. When he realises, he tries not to move too much; both he and Clint have a tendency to wake up in a hurry. Clint blinks once, going from asleep to awake with no intervening stage. He clocks the room, yawns, and closes his eyes again. “Sleep?”

“Are you asking if I slept, or if you can have more sleep?”

“Either. Both. Is it Sunday?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. So if you did sleep, and no alien bugs crawled in here to eat us, can we go back to sleep now?”

“I should probably go before-.”

Clint turns his head. “Or you could stick around. This is a great bed.” 

Phil raises his eyebrows. “I thought you were tired?”

“So we don’t need to be too energetic.” Clint smiles, twisting onto his side in the bed with a lazy stretch. Phil presses his nose against Clint’s neck, where he smells of sweat and sleep-warmth from a night spent wrapped together under the blankets while snow fell outside. They don’t do leisurely very often. Phil turns so they are side-to-side.

Clint rocks slowly against him. Phil widens his legs a fraction. There is no pressure, no insistence that Clint wants to do anything more than slide between Phil’s thighs, back and forth for as long as it takes. Clint pats vaguely behind him at the side of the bed until eventually Phil hears the bottle uncap and Clint’s hands pass once, warm and slick, between his legs to ease the way. Phil is getting even less than that, just the brush of his cock against Clint’s stomach when he slides forward. He is hard but not yet urgently so, content to move together unrushed in the slight dip they left in the mattress the night before. 

Clint comes first, with a quiet moan. He trails his hand through the mess and rolls Phil over onto his back. Clint braces himself up on one arm and jerks Phil off with his free hand, slippery with cum and the last traces of the lubricant. Phil’s hips jerk up to meet him, a little faster now, but only a little. 

When he finishes, Phil doesn’t feel like moving any more, and it’s Clint who wipes them off with the nearest shirt before falling back down beside him. 

They doze a little, until Phil can hear the noise downstairs and tries to rouse himself again. “I should go.”

“Where?”

“I can’t just walk into Stark’s kitchen in yesterday’s suit and-.”

“Borrow something of mine.”

There is a loud knocking at the door. Stark calls, “Clint, tell your boyfriend we all know he’s in there already. And also Thor’s making pancakes for brunch, which is way better entertainment than making fun of whatever’s keeping the two of you locked in the bedroom. Coffee’s on.” His footsteps echo away down the hallway.

Clint grins. “It’s Sunday morning. Can we please just stay in?”

Clint knows what he’s doing this time, but Phil sighs and doesn’t call him on it. They’re not quite the same size but he can borrow sweats and a t-shirt without it being a problem. He just needs to get showered first. If Phil’s going down there among those people wearing Clint’s clothes, he’s not going to do it still smelling of sex.

When they do get down to the kitchen, Thor is definitely making pancakes. There is batter everywhere. Stark sits at the table, oblivious of the chaos going on behind him. Phil sits opposite him. “Can I borrow that?”

Stark lifts two sections of the paper. “News or business?”

“News, please.”

Stark hands it over and then calls over his shoulder. “You’re still banned from the sports pages, Rogers, don’t even think about it.” He rolls his eyes at Phil. “No one should be allowed to get that incensed over franchise relocation. He’s on a time out.”

Clint sits beside Phil, bringing two cups of coffee back with him. Banner appears in the kitchen, clattering around in the cupboards and emerging triumphantly with a box of tea. Phil is half-reading the newspaper and half-watching the ever-increasing anarchy at the stove where Darcy Lewis and Jane Foster are trying to convince Thor that he has made enough batter now. 

Phil asks, “No Natasha?”

Captain Rogers answers quickly, “We’re letting her sleep.”

Stark shudders. “We don’t disturb her. We’ve all learnt that lesson. If she wakes up naturally when she smells the pancakes and the coffee, fine. If not, we’d all like to keep hold of our essential organs.”

Natasha emerges halfway through the meal, her hair still rumpled with sleep. She looks at Phil. “He convinced you then?”

“I’m sorry?”

“To stay over.”

Clint glares. “There was no convincing. We were tired, we slept here last night. No big deal.”

Stark smirks. “It’s a bit of a big deal. First time actually spending the night together instead of slinking off to hide in SHIELD’s criminally boring sleeping quarters?”

Phil is about to say something not terribly polite but mostly accurate regarding the fact that at least he didn’t use an AI to get rid of Clint in the morning. But Natasha laughs at all three of them indiscriminately and says, “Please. They’ve been spending the night together at least since the time Phil broke him out of that prison in Siberia.”

Clint shivers beside him. “Fucking undercover missions.” He had complained about it then too.

Phil leans in closer, smiling at the look of remembered disgust on Clint’s face. “Yes, it was very cold, far too cold for human comfort, I know, I remember. Did I or did I not come rescue you?”

“You did. Well, you and Natasha did. But yes.”

“So it worked out fine.” And now it’s cold in New York out in the snow, but they are inside eating pancakes on a Sunday morning. It worked out fine.

Darcy looks between the two of them. “You two are sickeningly cute. Thor, I was wrong, we need more pancakes. Although I’m totally blaming you for messing with the maths there.” 

Jane gets up to help him. “-no, I appreciate that, but I still think that using four pans at once is excessive.” She curls her arm around his chest while they cook.

It reminds Phil a little of college, although Clint protests that descriptor when he is told. Still: morning sex after too little sleep, and then more sleep, and too many people arguing halfway seriously around not quite enough breakfast table. 

Clint kisses the corner of Phil’s mouth, and then steals the last pancake. “They’re making more,” he says, unrepentant. 

The troubling thing is, Phil could get used to this.


End file.
